Hello everyone! I am writing to you from McDonalds (thank them for their free Wi-fi), since there is no Internet at home. I'm sorry that there was no chapter yesterday. So that you don't get upset, I went to the city to publish the next chapter. I hope the Internet will be fixed today and I will be able to continue writing for you. Sincerely, HPMan.
May the magic be with you. Enjoy!
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"I see," I scrolled through the theoretical possibilities gained from the basilisk, the dragon, and the hemomancy in my head. "But, if anything, run away. I will be very sad if I lose such a teacher - you explain the material well, the pay is symbolic, and also a joy for the eyes."
"Even an inappropriate compliment can be pleasant," Delphine smiled sparingly but sincerely. "Drink already..."
My only excuse is that Lady Greengrass is really beautiful and looks young.
Calm down, schizophrenia.
Where did such a manner of speaking come from?
"The constant exchange of data with your mind, subconscious, and memory imposes certain imprints."
Having drained a glass of potion in one gulp, which tasted pleasant in contrast to Skele-Gro, I returned the empty glass to Lady Greengrass and went exactly to the center of the ritual scheme. True, it was not difficult - there is a big empty circle, it's hard to miss.
"Ready?"
"I don't think so."
"Well, don't worry. Muggles say nerve cells don't regenerate."
Lady Greengrass waved her wand, and the ritual diagram under my feet glowed softly blue. As she did so, a translucent dome of protection closed over me. From Lady Greengrass's wand, blue clots were constantly breaking off, soaking into the defense and strengthening it.
"Fianto Duri..." I couldn't hear the words, but I could read lips.
An unusual warmth began to spread through the body, and the magic inside seemed to go berserk, starting to be generated at a frantic pace, immediately consuming it for something. Hemomancy behaved similarly.
"I am recording strange data. Skipper! We have problems!..."
Rowena's mental voice came as if through a thick layer of water.
Tu-dun.
A pulse was pounding in my head.
Tu-dun.
As if a shock had been sent through the nerves.
Tu-doom.
Consciousness shattered like glass.
***
The consciousness that self-identifies as "Rowena" watched with great interest as Max's mind seemed to split, but it wasn't really. It was no secret to Rowena that the Spirited Weapon could absorb souls, unknowingly transforming them. Of course, the very essence of the soul went to unknown distances, but the rest remained.
At this moment, the situation could be imagined as if Max's mind consisted of a multitude of tiny particles that flew away to the most related spiritual structures. It was certainly an interesting experience, but Rowena understood that without help, it would take him an unknown amount of time to get back together. At the same time, she noted the fact that the transformation launched by the ritual and the potion requires much more resources and energy than both the ritual itself and Max himself can give.
The problem was seemingly insignificant, and the ritual would have worked as it should, except that after rebirth, the body had one of the many "undocumented" functions - the absorption of energy like the Sword. Because of this, the possibility of "turning off" the transformation process seems somewhat impossible - the body would be autonomously searching for energy. Of course, even if this were not the case, Rowena would have provided all possible help to put this puzzle back together.
Determined to properly document every detail for a future "report," Rowena set to work - began to put Max's mind back together, speeding up his natural recovery.